Page 34 of Fractured Hearts

I burst out laughing but do what he says anyway. “Here you go,” I say, tossing it to him from the doorway.

“Shit,” he mutters. “Well, it’s better than under.” I watch as he pulls off some foil packets and what I think is chicken.

“What’s the occasion?” I ask, backing up so he can come inside and shutting the door behind him.

He looks at me, sucks in a deep breath, and says, “Iknowtodayisyourbirthdayandiwantedtodosomethingspecialbutisuckatcooking.”

I blink. “What?”

Ezra sighs. His shoulders droop making him look defeated. “I wanted to make you dinner for your birthday.”

“How did you know today is my birthday? I’ve been pretending I don’t have one for years.”

“What?” he says, his eyebrows scrunched in confusion. “You still get older even if you don’t blow out candles, you know.”

I laugh and shake my head. “My parents never really threw me a party, and I just started acting like it was any other day, so it wouldn’t hurt as bad.” I shrug like it’s no big deal and that it still doesn’t hurt me. “How did you know?” I ask again.

Ezra just lifts a brow. Right. Gavin pulled everything on everyone. Of course, Ezra knows my birthday.

“Alright. What did you make me?” I ask, changing the topic. I hate talking about my parents, and I can see the questions Ezra has after my birthday comment.

“Chicken, potatoes, asparagus,” he says. “Maybe.”

I laugh and get plates. The chicken is definitely overcooked, and the asparagus is a little charred, but it looks good. Once the food is plated, we take our normal spots at the island and dig in.

“Mmm,” I hum. “This is actually delicious,” I say around a bite of chicken and potato. It’s dry, but the flavors are wonderful.

Ezra grunts as he eats while glaring between his plate and the direction of the grill. He can’t see it from where he’s sitting, but I can tell he’s blaming it for the overcooked food.

“Thank you for this. It’s really good.”

He looks unconvinced, but nods.

“Now what?” I ask him. Usually I read a book or we watch something after dinner.

“I have a cake. I also have three bottles of wine that Harlow said was your favorite,” he says quietly. Almost like he’s embarrassed.

“Hell yes!” I yell, making him jump. “We can get wine drunk, eat cake, and watch terrible reality shows.” Ezra looks at me like he’d rather pluck out his eyelashes and eat them, but he keeps his mouth shut.

Eventually he sighs. “I’ll get the cake. You open the wine.”

I jump up and give him a hug. I haven’t been this excited in a long time.

thirty-two

EZRA

Drunk Jo is a talker. I think she’s said more words in the last two hours than she has the entire month we’ve been here. Considering we chat about her murder stuff while she makes dinner every night, that’s saying a lot. I’m not sure I’ve followed half of her thoughts. They’re going too fast, and I’m tired.

“And another thing!” she yells, finger pointed in the air. I rack my brain trying to remember what the topic is, but I’ve polished off a bottle of wine and my thoughts are fuzzy.

“What was the first thing?” I ask before I can tell my mouth to shut up.

Jo turns to me with a terrifying glare. I watch as she opens her mouth and closes it like she was about to speak but lost the thought. Or maybe the first thing was fish, and she’s miming it to me?

Blub blub, I think to myself and chuckle.

“Why are you giggling?” Jo asks, scowling.